The Ursus girl before Felix still carried the innocent air of youth. She wasn’t on his list of people worth paying attention to, so after a polite greeting, he turned back to his conversation with Count Rostov about their proposed trade.

He had quickly noticed the contrast between Ursus’s nouveau riche and Victoria’s old aristocracy. The nobles of Victoria preferred veiled words and hidden knives—smiling faces concealing treachery. The Ursus nobles, however, were far more direct. They spoke their minds, wore their ambitions openly, and when it came to business, they negotiated with a bold, personal flair. Their straightforwardness made it hard to dislike them.

Chernobog would one day become a battlefield—that much Felix knew from the events of the 3.0 arc in his previous life. Whether Count Rostov’s plan to arm his private soldiers would change that future remained to be seen… but likely not. After all, those soldiers were being raised to challenge the old nobles, not to alter destiny.

While Felix and the count continued their discussion, Amiya quietly nibbled on her cake. She noticed the same Ursus girl who had greeted them earlier glancing this way again and again—her gaze fixed on Felix. Around her stood several other well-dressed youths, boys and girls alike, each dressed in elegant finery. They were clearly sons and daughters of noble families.

Amiya looked at them curiously for a moment, then resumed her dessert. ‘Doctor Kal’tsit wouldn’t like this,’ she thought guiltily. ‘Too much sugar isn’t good for me… I guess I’ll just brush my teeth for five minutes tonight instead of three.’

When the business conversation finally ended, Felix and Amiya strolled leisurely around the venue. The topic had been nothing more than a standard weapons and equipment contract. Ursus ore, when properly treated, could greatly enhance the durability of weaponry—but few dared use it. Most Ursus minerals were infected, after all. Felix doubted the shrewd Count Rostov would be foolish enough to harm his own interests for short-term profit.

“Brother Felix,” Amiya whispered, tugging at his sleeve, “they’re still looking at you.”

He followed her gaze toward the group of noble youths. Smiling politely, he met their eyes just long enough to see flustered faces and quickly averted glances.

“They’ve probably never seen a Sankta before,” he said softly. “They’re just curious.”

“Oh, I see.”

The little Cautus nodded thoughtfully. They didn’t linger much longer; after one last walk around the ballroom, they made their way out.

The moment they stepped into the cool night air, both of them took a deep breath. The quiet of the city felt refreshing after the noise of the banquet. Felix ruffled Amiya’s hair gently.

“So? What do you think of a noble’s banquet?”

“The cake was delicious.”

“Haha, and what else?”

“Hmm… everyone was just talking to each other. Are banquets always just for chatting?”

“Exactly.” Felix smiled. “A banquet is simply an excuse—a polite reason to gather people together and talk.”

He patted her head again. “We’ve seen the bright and glamorous side of Ursus… now, I’ll show you the other side.”

Amiya nodded, not entirely understanding, but trusting him. She changed out of her dress and back into her familiar travel clothes—the ones that made her feel comfortable and free. She noticed that Felix, too, had changed, replacing his formal suit with a long, dark coat from Tomorrow’s Development.

She liked that coat—it looked warm, yet breathable. It suited him perfectly.

“Let’s go.”

Felix led Amiya away from the noble district. They boarded a city bus, the vehicle rumbling softly as it passed through the streets. Amiya watched through the window as the scenery shifted—the proud stone architecture and gleaming façades slowly giving way to dull, cracked walls. The air grew heavier. Buildings looked worn, patched together, lifeless.

When they reached their stop, the driver hurriedly closed the doors and drove off the moment they stepped down.

“Where… are we?” Amiya asked quietly, stepping carefully over a puddle. Ahead of them loomed an old factory, and behind it stretched rows of cramped shacks—houses built on top of other houses, a maze of decaying wood and rusted metal.

“This,” Felix said softly, resting a hand on her head, “is the Chernobog slums.”

He looked into the dim streets ahead. “Where there is light, there must also be shadow. The same is true in a city. Back there, we saw the brightness—the luxury, the splendor. Now, we see the darkness beneath it.”

A drunken man staggered toward them, his bare shoulder glittering faintly with exposed Originium crystals. Upon seeing the unfamiliar pair—a Sankta and a Cautus—he began shouting curses, swinging his fists in wild, unsteady arcs.

Amiya shrank behind Felix, squeezing her eyes shut. But after a moment, the street fell silent. When she slowly opened her eyes, the drunk was lying motionless on the ground, unconscious—Felix’s hand still raised from where he’d struck his neck.

“An infected…” Amiya murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

She was one too, though hers wasn’t visible. The Originium embedded in her body lay hidden at her side, beneath her clothes—away from prying eyes. That was why, at the banquet earlier, no one had realized what she was.

“The infected of Ursus live lives worse than death,” Felix said quietly. “They survive on wages that can barely feed them, clinging to life in the slums of these mobile cities… and this is still Chernobog. At least here, they’re allowed to stay on the city’s outskirts. In some places, the infected aren’t even permitted to linger near the city—they’re driven into the wilderness, left to die on their own.”

“T-That’s… far too cruel.”

“This world is unfair, Amiya,” Felix said softly. “Especially in Ursus.”

They walked deeper into the slums. Everywhere they looked, people sat on the ground, huddled in the cold. Their eyes were dull, lifeless—numb to pain, to hunger, to existence itself. Amiya wanted to avert her gaze, but she forced herself to keep looking.

If she hadn’t met the Doctor… if she hadn’t met Miss Theresa, or Brother Felix… wouldn’t she be just like these people? A nameless infected, struggling to survive in Rim Billiton?

“Outsiders. You’re not welcome here.”

A few blocks in, several young men stepped into their path, holding rusted metal pipes. Their clothes were ragged, and the black crystalline dust of Originium clung to their exposed skin, carrying with it a faint, rotting stench.

“I’m looking for Azazel,” Felix said calmly. “Can you take us there?”

In his previous life, when he and other players had come to Chernobog for missions, they had stumbled upon the infected slums outside the city—and there, they found a hidden underground clinic. It was run by an organization called Azazel, dedicated to treating infected and fighting off the Ursus police who came to harass them.

At the time, the group hadn’t seemed significant. Their quests offered little in the way of reward or progress, so few players paid attention. It wasn’t until much later—after joining Rhodes Island—that they learned the truth: the leader of Azazel was a powerful Operator.

‘Since I’m already here,’ Felix thought, ‘I might as well pay the old man a visit.’

“What makes you think we’ll just let you in?” one of the young men snapped, his tone bristling with hostility.

Before Felix could answer, Amiya stepped forward and spoke.

“I’m infected,” she said firmly. “He’s my brother. Can… can we come in?”

The aggression in their eyes slowly faded. They exchanged a few glances, then the one in front nodded.

“Your brother looks suspicious, but… fine. Since you’re one of us, you can go in.”

They stepped aside, opening a narrow path. Amiya looked up at Felix. He gave her a warm, approving smile, and she smiled back, gripping his hand tightly as they walked forward together.

Azazel wasn’t a single building, nor a proper underground facility. It was more like a makeshift camp—a cluster of tents and shacks that served as both shelter and clinic. It was easy to see how they managed to house so many patients. Everywhere they looked, infected lay on the ground or against walls, some groaning weakly while a handful of doctors hurried between them. Even those doctors bore visible traces of infection—the glittering shards of Originium embedded in their skin.

Amiya’s smile slowly vanished. She couldn’t help but think of Babel. But unlike Babel, Azazel had no army, no ambition—only compassion. Its guards were few and poorly equipped, most of them just like the boys from before, armed with little more than pipes. Compared to even the weakest Sarkaz mercenary, they were painfully underqualified.

“Can you feel the difference now?” Felix’s quiet voice drew Amiya’s gaze. “What we saw on the Noble Avenue… and what we see here. Both exist within the same city, Amiya. This world is unfair. While the nobles feast on fine food and wine, these people eat stale bread to survive.”

Amiya felt a sudden pang of guilt. She remembered the cakes and biscuits she had eaten at the banquet earlier—delicacies that most here could never even dream of tasting. Those pastries, so abundant they were used as decoration, were things these people longed for but would never have.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Felix said gently, patting her head. “The world isn’t fair. Some are born into noble families. Others are born infected. But does that mean those nobles are guilty by default? Tell me, Amiya—do you think that young lady we met earlier, Natalya Rostova, was a bad person?”

Amiya thought for a moment, recalling the kind smile of the Ursus girl only a few years older than her. She shook her head.

“Yet she enjoys the privileges of nobility,” Felix continued. “And much of what the upper class enjoys comes from the suffering of the infected. Take the ore we’re about to trade, for example—it’s mined by people like these. So if, one day, her family were to lose everything, would you think they deserved it?”

Amiya frowned slightly. What Felix said felt… right, yet something about it unsettled her. It sounded satisfying, but not entirely just.

“You’ll figure it out in time,” Felix said softly. “This world… this land… is far more complicated than it seems.”

Amiya wrapped her arms around her head, murmuring, “Brother Felix, sometimes you sound just like Doctor Kal’tsit.”

“There’s a bit of a difference,” Felix replied with a small grin. “At least I still know how to smile.”

A faint laugh escaped him. As for Doctor Kal’tsit… she hadn’t smiled in a long, long time. In Felix’s memory, she remained the same cold-faced enigma—a cat who spoke in riddles, her warmth buried deep beneath the frost.

“Brother Felix, you shouldn’t say things like that in front of Doctor Kal’tsit,” Amiya said softly.

“I know, I know. You’re such a good girl, Amiya.”

Felix chuckled and affectionately ruffled her hair. After that little moment, the two of them walked together toward the central district of Azazel.

The plaza there was crowded with infected, all lined up to receive medicine. Felix cast a brief glance toward the crates being distributed. A single look was enough for him to recognize the drugs—they were an old formula, one that had been used twenty years ago to treat the early stages of Oripathy. He hadn’t expected to see such discontinued medication still circulating here.

He remembered studying it long ago, during his time learning medicine under Kal’tsit. He knew exactly what it was capable of—and what it wasn’t.

Those in line were mostly moderate or severe cases. The medicine could ease their pain, yes, but that was all. It could keep them alive so long as they avoided strenuous movement… yet a life like that was barely different from death.

“You must be new here. If you’re here to collect medicine, please register first.”

A doctor—an infected man himself—approached them. His eyes lingered briefly on Felix before resting on Amiya. She bowed slightly and thanked him in a quiet voice.

“I’m infected,” she admitted, “but I’m just passing through. This medicine is too precious… I shouldn’t take it.”

“From another settlement, are you?” the doctor said, frowning. “That won’t do. A young girl like you—if you skip treatment, your condition might worsen.”

Before either of them could protest, he strode quickly over to a nearby supply crate and spoke a few hurried words to the young man guarding it, occasionally pointing back toward Amiya. The attendant nodded in understanding and unlocked the box. The doctor retrieved a small bottle of pills and returned, placing it gently in Amiya’s hands.

“Take this three times a day, after meals,” he instructed. “Since you’re still young, half a tablet each time will be enough.”

Amiya held the bottle tightly in both hands, her lips pressed together. She could feel the warmth of his kindness in the simple gesture.

“You’re her guardian, I presume?” the doctor asked, glancing at Felix. “Please make sure she avoids any strenuous activity. Children her age tend to be a little too energetic.”

“I understand,” Felix replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

The doctor nodded and hurried off—there were still many patients who needed him.

Felix turned to Amiya and spoke softly, “It’s not quite what you imagined, is it? The infected settlements.”

“No…” Amiya murmured, carefully tucking the small bottle away. She knew it was given out of kindness—she couldn’t bear to reject it.

Then she looked up at him. “Brother Felix…”

“You want me to help them, don’t you?” he asked gently, crouching down to meet her eyes.

Amiya hesitated. “That’s what my heart says… but I think it would be wrong to ask you. This is my responsibility, not yours.”

“I’m your big brother, aren’t I?”

Felix’s voice was calm, filled with warmth. “Besides, this is only a small matter. Amiya… no matter what happens from now on, no matter what you go through, I hope you’ll always share it with me. Tell me everything—because I’ll always be by your side.”

“Brother Felix… you won’t leave, like Miss Theresa did?”

Her eyes shimmered, faintly wet with unshed tears. Felix sighed quietly. Amiya might not remember what truly happened that day, but she knew how it ended.

“I won’t,” he said gently.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding the small Cautus girl as though she were something precious and fragile.

After a moment, he stood and turned toward the infected doctor nearby.

“I’d like to speak with your commander,” he said.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep